Category Archives: church

Christ accepted the impossible death.

church, Holy Week, icons, music, video

He died although he cannot die; he dies although he is immortal, in his very human nature inseparably united with his Godhead. His soul, without being separated from God, is torn out of his body, while both his soul and his flesh remain united with the Godhead. He will lie in the tomb incorruptible until the third day, because his body cannot be touched by corruption. It is full of the divine presence. It is pervaded by it as a sword of iron is pervaded by fire in the furnace, and the soul of Christ descends into hell resplendent with the glory of his Godhead.

The death of Christ is a tearing apart of an immortal body from a soul that is alive and remains alive forever. This makes the death of Christ a tragedy beyond our imagining, far beyond any suffering that we can humanly picture or experience.

Christ’s death is an act of supreme love. It was true when he said, “No one takes my life from me; I give it freely myself.” No one could kill him — the Immortal; no one could quench this Light that is the shining of the splendor of God. He gave his life, he accepted the impossible death to share with us all the tragedy of our human condition.

–Metropolitan Anthony Bloom

This hymn of Holy Friday, of which I found a version on YouTube, begins, “Today He Who hung the earth upon the waters is hung upon a tree,” and continues with an exploration of all the impossible details. At Royal Hours this morning I heard a quartet of men sing it, fittingly beautiful and powerful.

Holy Tuesday Flowers

church, nature, other gardens, ,

Over a year ago I had to give up gardening at church. That branch of my life had to be pruned out so that other things had room to grow. But I miss the contact with the earth and growing things on the big property, and all the assortment of flora, some of them my own plantings and most of them friends in whom I’ve invested time and attention. So after Bridegroom Matins this morning I lingered and took some pictures while the light was still gentle.

 

native iris
cistus

The service and the flowers were certainly the highlight of my day. After that, I had planned to spend time working in my own garden, but instead, grueling computer confusion demanded all of the patience and peace I could find.

I never stepped outside again until evening when Mr. Glad and I took a slow walk. It was a great boon to get into the air and away from electronics, and with someone I love who loves the outdoors, too, and I wished I had my camera along then — or better yet, a magic bottle in which to capture the smell of honeysuckle and other sweets.

 

It’s nice that this evening I can look at images of those morning flowers, which seem now to be getting ready to deck a bridal chamber.

Joseph preserved his soul.

church, quotes,

HOLY AND GREAT MONDAY

I often think of the Church as a treasure chest full of precious gems, so overflowing and of such varied hues and designs that I will never even see all of them, or be able to fully appreciate them in my lifetime. That’s because the Church is “the fullness of Him that fills all in all.” (Ephesians 1:23) or in other translations “who fills all things everywhere with himself,” or “who fills everything in every way,” or “who everywhere fills the universe with Himself.” Doesn’t that sound like a lot to take in?

Every day on the church calendar is rich with the history of our salvation, and with the memory of people who are our brothers and sisters in Christ. But because I  1) have a finite amount of time, and 2) am overly caught up in the cares of this world or my own selfish concerns, I miss many of those connections as the days fly by. Today is the first I recall noticing two traditions of Monday in Holy Week, stories that are brought to our remembrance every year on this day:

Jesus Cursing the Fig Tree — That I love fig trees and figs is not pertinent to this story, in which a fig tree is symbolic of those who do not bring forth the fruits of repentance. This is an event that “actually occurred on the day of the biblical Holy Monday,” as the Wikipedia article tells us.

The Patriarch Joseph — The story of Joseph the son of Jacob, how his brothers sold him into slavery but God raised him to be a ruler in Egypt, is one of my favorites. It’s such a lesson in how God has His purposes which most of us can’t comprehend, especially when we suffer because of the sins of others.

The theme of the hymn this day is: “Joseph, though enslaved in body, preserved his soul in freedom.” He is the positive counterpart to the unfruitful fig tree, and this Mystagogy post explores how the freedom from passions (sin) compares to the kinds of freedom we typically care about and fight for these days. 

One of the passions that Joseph seems to have avoided is bitterness or resentment. He didn’t want his brothers to feel bad anymore about what they did to him, because he thinks they all should rejoice instead and be grateful for what God has done in preserving their people, God’s chosen nation, in the famine. Years ago I learned in a Bible study all the many, many ways that Joseph is a type of Christ. Just more of those riches that I am inadequate to hold on to.

But this week we also have the theme of Jesus the Bridegroom. In our parish we are able to have Bridegroom Matins at 6:30 a.m. on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. What a blessing! And Lord willing, I’ll be there for at least one of those services and feel the warmth emanating from a few diamonds or rubies of the Church’s treasury.

Lazarus

church, my garden, Pascha, ,

Tonight was the service of Matins for Lazarus Saturday. It made me so happy. About a week before Pascha we experience this foretaste of Paschal joy, witnessing the raising of Lazarus after he had lain in the tomb for four days. But first, picture the scene when Jesus came into town: Lazarus’s sisters were grieving and seemed to blame Jesus for their brother’s death, saying, “If you had been here, he wouldn’t have died.” Jesus wept. The sisters made mention of the fact that their brother’s corpse was at the point of stinking. It was kind of a downer all around.

I know Lent is a time of drawing close to God, and learning of His tender love for us, and looking eagerly toward The Resurrection. But it’s also characterized as a time of bright sadness. This year I have felt the sadness part more than the bright part, as a burden-bearing, until these last few days.

Since December I’d had bright white lights still up around my kitchen window, and for many weeks I left them on night and day, to help my mood. Sometime in March I unplugged the string, but I was still reluctant to untape and untack them. I pondered leaving them all year, unlit but ready to come to my aid with the next dreary day in the Fall, but it was an idea stemming wholly from weariness.

Suddenly one morning during a short spell of sunshine, I knew I needed to wash the window and the sill, so of course the lights could not stay there. I washed and swept and scrubbed all kinds of things around the house and the yard for two or three days, and prepared myself to be resurrected. I took away the candlesticks and put fresh flowers instead on the windowsill.

And the brightness has taken over. Pascha is so late this year, Spring also in many places, but Lent seems to have passed quickly. Perhaps during Holy Week I can finish my housecleaning and make the place look properly freshened up for Christ’s glorious Resurrection.

But first Lazarus will walk — alive! — out of the tomb and be unbound. If he can be raised after his body was rotting, so can I be relieved of my burdens and my stinking sins and put on Christ.  As he said,

Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.

I will try to pay attention and learn and find that rest through the next week as we are on our way to Calvary, and I’m really looking forward to being there at the empty tomb!